Prelude 1221
by claw06
Summary: Khan's blood has more of an effect on Kirk than anyone realises. After he is sent back into the cryosleep a series of events lead to him and Kirk meeting in the past where Kirk learns not all is as it seems. And Khan finds love where he least expects it. SLASH
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So I've been on a Star Trek kick lately and I ended up watching The Reichenbach Fall episode of Sherlock while reading Khan/Kirk fics and this happened as a result.**

**Chapter One**

He'd failed.

Numbness engulfed his entire being as he sat in the Med bay of the _Enterprise_, pale eyes watching McCoy treat Kirk with his blood.

He'd failed to save his crew. They were all gone, killed by the very torpedoes he'd created to protect them. And now, here he was, once more a captive of the Starfleet, his fate resting in their blood stained hands while his family floated in a debris field somewhere in space. His eyes narrowed slightly and he tried to muster up just the tiniest bit of anger before he sighed, feeling every bit his 330 years. Why was he even trying? There was nothing left in this world for him.

_Nothing._

He just wanted to rest, to let go.

"What do you plan to do with me?" He monotoned softly. McCoy stiffened and turned to glare at him.

"Why? Scared we'll torture you or kill you like you did all those people? Don't worry, we're not like you. At worst, they'll probably send your ass back to sleep." The CMO snarled and he just nodded not bothering to correct the doctor misconception. No use correcting something that had been taught for over 300 years.

The door to the med bay slid open and entered, face carefully blank as he moved to stand beside Kirk's bed.

"How is the Captain, Doctor?"

"It worked. He should wake up sometime within the next few days."

Spock nodded then turned to Khan.

"I've spoken to the Admirals about your fate and that of your crew."

"The crew you killed." Khan growled lowly, hatred overtaking the emptiness inside of him.

"It has been decided that you shall remain aboard the Enterprise until the Captain awakens. Afterwards you will be returned to the cryosleep." The Vulcan continued as if he hadn't heard the augment speak.

Khan glowered at him, hate darkening his silver and sky eyes to a dangerous slate grey.

"How very _merciful._" He spat spitefully turning away from the two men to hide the tears welling in his eyes.

Grief overwhelmed his hate and tears streamed down his porcelain cheeks as he pondered his fate and the...cruelty of the Starfleet.

They'd killed his crew and now they were sending him back into the cold darkness of the cryosleep to awaken in centuries, alone. Yet _he _was the monster. A bitter snort escaped his lips.

They should've killed him. He wished they had.

**?**

Kirk frowned pensively as he observed the augment lying in a bed on the opposite side of the infirmary, one hand cuffed to the bed frame in and obviously uncomfortable position.

He'd awakened three days after Khan's sentencing to find the older man in the exact same position and reports from his crew stating that he'd been refusing nourishment and hadn't moved since being sentenced. It had been the same in the two days the _Enterprise_'s captain had been awake. Khan hadn't so much as moved, seemingly oblivious of the world around him and it puzzled him.

This wasn't the same Khan that he'd captured on Qo'nos. It wasn't the bold, almost obnoxiously arrogant criminal that had occupied his bridge. No, this man seemed...broken and it didn't feel right to Jim to have played a part in breaking him despite everything he'd done. It reminded him too much of his past, of the people in his life that had tried to break him and he didn't like it. At all.

"Shut up."

Jim blinked at the quiet baritone voice that broke him from his thoughts, shocked to find it had come from the object of his thoughts. The criminal had rolled over and now lay facing him with an annoyed frown.

"What? I wasn't talking."

"You were thinking, it's annoying." The other retorted yet his voice seemed a bit flat. The young captain smirked.

"So you can speak. Here I thought you'd become mute."

"Indeed."

He stared at the augment for a moment noting the depression hidden in those pale eyes.

"Thank you."

Khan frowned at him then snorted. "It was of no choice of my own, Captain Kirk. Your crew saved you at their own initiative despite my opinion on the matter. Had it been my choice-"

"You would've helped me because my death wasn't your original plan. If it were you would have killed me on the _Vengeance_. Even after beaming me aboard the _Enterprise_ don't think I didn't notice that you fired your weakest missiles on us and barely damaged the ship's hull enough to kill us."

"Didn't do much good did it? Your crew survived, mine did not! Congratulations, Captain!" Khan snapped anguish and rage coating his every word in a deadly cocktail of emotions. Jim's heart broke and he frowned in regret as tears gathered in the older man's broken gaze.

"Khan, I'm so sorry that you've lost your family. You have to believe me when I say that was never the plan. I didn't even know until after it had happened. I would never take someone's family that way."

The augment turned away from him before speaking in a dull monotone.

"Can you do something for me?"

"Within reason."

"I would like my cryotube to be destroyed."

The blond froze at the request.

"What? Are you crazy? That'll kill you!"

"After the cryosleep is initiated I would like you to destroy my cryotube. I don't want to be awakened again. Will you do it?

Swallowing harshly, Kirk nodded and Khan gave him a grateful glance.

"Thank you."

**/**

The next day found the two men gathered in engineering with Spock, McCoy and Scotty

A strange sort of peace enveloped Khan as he stared down at the tube that would be his final resting place. Beside him, Kirk was frowning slightly starlit blue eyes full of trepidation.

With a peaceful heart Khan lied down in the tube, staying still as Spock and McCoy strapped him in. The lid closed and Scotty typed in the initiation code.

The last thing he saw before darkness over took him were Kirk's sad, regret filled blue eyes.

/

Kirk swallowed as Khan's eyes finally fell closed and for some reason he felt his heart shatter as he spoke the words that would enable him to fulfill the promise he had made to a man that lost everything.

"Destroy it."

McCoy's eyes widened as did Scotty's and Spock's eyebrow rose.

"Captain?"

"Jim, are you insane?!"

"What?!"

The young captain stared down at Khan's sleeping face noting the tiny peace filled smile on the man's froze lips.

"Destroy Khan's tube." He repeated in a stronger voice before turning and leaving the room, his three subordinates staring after him.

**Tbc...**

**A/N: Sorry it's kind of short. However it's just a bit of a prologue. The real action starts in the next chapter so stay tuned.**


	2. Chapter 2

Page **5** of **5**

**Disclaimer: Don't own.**

**Chapter Two**

He wasn't dead.

Khan's brow furrowed as he fought to open his eyes and survey his surroundings, suddenly very aware that he was no longer aboard the _Enterprise. _ Had Kirk gone back on his promise? No. He knew the young captain well enough to know he was a man of his word. Plus he had seen the tears in the man's eyes as he'd entered the sleep process.

So where was he?

He inhaled slowly taking in the scents around him.

_**Cold, sterile. **__A hospital maybe? _ He frowned. _No, I can smell blood too and it lacks the scent of medicine. _

He pursed his lips and listened.

_**Footsteps, alarms, screaming, crying, begging.**_

"How are the experiments progressing?"

Experiments, another lab. Why is that voice so familiar?

The augment finally opened his eyes and observed the room. As he did so he felt his blood run cold.

He was in an old fashioned 21st century operating room, a very familiar operating room. On one side of the room was a large metal sink while one the other was a pair of large metal doors. Blood stained the walls and the floors as well as the white scrubs clinging to his body. Around both of his wrists and his ankles were a pair of thick metal shackles that unbeknownst to his captors were entirely too weak for his superior strength.

He knew exactly where he was.

The door opens almost as if to confirm his theories and in walks a man Khan hadn't seen since the beginning of the Eugenics' War, James Moriarty.

The man looked better than he remembered, then again the last time he'd seen Moriarty was when he had killed him. The augment watched with blank eyes as the psychopath sauntered over to him one of his pet scientists in tow. Better to pretend and get information than rush into something. He was good at pretending.

"Why so sad, Sherlylocks. Finally realizing you've lost our game?"

"Lost?" He questioned softly turning his head to face the man. "You believe I have lost?"

Taking his words for arrogance Moriarty glared at him and grabbed him by his curls.

_I need a haircut._ Sherlock mused inwardly tuning out the man yelling in his face. A hand met his cheek violently and he repressed the urge to snarl at the human, instead glaring up at him defiantly.

"Maybe I should just kill little Amelia. You remember her right? The little experiment you've grown so fond of."

"_Captain, will going to sleep hurt?"_

"_No, it'll seem just like a short nap. Then when we wake we will all be together again."_

Amelia, his pseudo daughter. She had been among those killed by _Spock._ The child her was not his. None of the people here were his. His Family was dead. These, these people were imposters. And since they were dead…the imposters should die too.

Rage flooded his veins and he gave Moriarty a savage smile, his pale eyes now a sterling silver.

"I'm going to kill you." He purred. The consulting criminal snorted, obviously unaware of the change in his demeanor.

"I truly doubt that. You don't have the heart to kill me. You're on the side of the angel, no matter how much you try to prove otherwise."

Khan smirked darkly, broke his chains and attacked.

All around him everything began to blur together. Screams, shout, alarms and footsteps coming together in a cacophony of sound, the stark crimson of blood the only color registering in his vengeance clouded mind. No one was safe from his rage. They all fell beneath his hands.

When the rage cleared the augment found himself sitting in the minefield, the Baskerville compound in flames behind him.

He stared at the fire blankly, contemplating his existence. Blood stained his clothing and his skin, slicking his long curls and streaking his face, yet he paid it no mind.

He was lost.

A tool built for a war that hadn't yet started in a past he was no longer a part of. Alone after a killing a crew that was his yet wasn't. After killing those that had tormented him and created him. So what does he do now?

What does a weapon do with no wielder?

What use is a warrior during a time when none is need and the world's threats are taken care of by an appointed army?

There was no Starfleet for him to destroy. No need for the weapons or warships of the federation. So what, what is he living for?

He has nothing.

The sound of a helicopter broke him from his musings and he watched as it lowered itself just beyond the minefield. Sixteen heavily armed men exited it, staring at the burning compound in disbelief for a moment before going to work putting out the fire.

They made quick work of it and were about to set about clearing the carnage when one of them spotted Khan watching them from within the minefield.

"Hey! Who are you?"

The augment didn't speak, only stared at them with those piercing silver-and-sky eyes.

The soldier moved through the minefield carefully and kneel beside the man weary of that sharp gaze.

"Are you alright?" He questioned gently and Khan sighed.

"I am unharmed."

With a nod the soldier stood and unnecessarily helped Khan to his feet before leading him to the helicopter.

The others made quick work of the clean up before climbing into the helicopter behind him. He ignored them all, staring out the window blankly.

Once they were up in the air, the first soldier spoke.

"Can you tell us what happened?"

The augment didn't answer instead he continued to gaze out the window. One of the other soldiers, obviously the leader, glared at him.

"Answer him." He ordered yet the man still didn't reply.

The leader turned to the soldier that had spoken.

"Cuff him."

"But sir-"

"Cuff. Him. Jones." The man growled and Jones sent him an apologetic glance then placed a pair of handcuffs on him. Khan spared the cuffs an amused glance.

"Something funny, boy?" Growled the leader.

"Maybe we should take him to Holmes, sir." Another soldier suggested and a positively evil glint lit the leader's eyes.

"You're right."

Glancing at them idly, the augment said nothing at all.

The chopper began too land and he looked out the window to the four men that stood beside the landing pad.

Once the vehicle landed completely he was grabbed roughly and escorted from it to stand before the four men waiting one of him gave a sharp inhale.

"Leave." The man ordered in a familiar voice and Khan frowned as the soldiers did as they were bid. He stared at the men standing before him.

Tall with dark hair and a slightly thick body obviously not one for legwork. He wore a pristine three piece suit and at his side was an…umbrella of all things. Who-

Mycroft. His brother, Mycroft.

He hadn't seen Mycroft since before that faithful night on the roof with Moriarty but he had heard of his death during the Eugenics wars and he'd mourned. He'd mourned and had taken his loss with him onto the battlefield tearing through his enemies with single minded efficiency. None had been spare his wrath yet …

There he was, alive and healthy. Somehow that made being back in this time just slightly easier to bear.

"Sherlock…" Mycroft breathed softly stepping forward, his eyes full of grief that he normally kept hidden.

Khan's heart lurched behind the icy walls he'd built around it and he fought not to give into the urge to garner comfort in the other man's arms as he had during their childhood.

"Mycroft." He greeted quietly.

His brother stared at him then pulled him into a tight heartwarming embrace, undoing his handcuffs all the while.

"Come let's get you cleaned up. Then you can explain this to me."

He followed the man inside, taking note of surroundings out of habit.

He was in Buckingham palace, he realized instantly from his surroundings and it calmed him slightly. Beside him Mycroft began to speak.

"Your death broke, Dr. Watson. In fact it wasn't until recently that he came out of his depression. Tell me, brother mine, was it worth it?"

Khan frowned.

John Watson was a person he hadn't thought of since shortly after the first experiment at Baskerville. He hadn't wanted the hallucinations forced on him by the medicines to taint the memory of his only friend so he'd hidden every memory he had of him deep inside his mind palace. Then when the Wars had ended he'd learned that the man had died in battle, having gotten called back to the RAMC to fight. Now as he stood there listening to his brother's report he was shocked to find that he no longer felt as strongly for the man as he once had. Make no mistake, he still loved the man but it seemed to be strictly platonic instead of the romantic feelings he'd held for him at first.

Mycroft automatically noticed this but didn't comment on it, still waiting for his brother's response to his first inquiry.

There was none for a moment and he feared that Sherlock would not answer. Just as he opened his mouth to repeat his question, the other spoke in a soft cold voice full of regret.

"No…It was not."

**TBC…**


	3. Chapter 3

Page **3** of **3**

**A/N: Khan is still a bit disoriented at having been sent back in time so he is having a hard time adjusting to seeing people that in his time died almost three hundred years ago. Also there is no guarantee that him, Kirk, and Spock will actually return to their time…**

**Chapter Three: Unfamiliar Familiarity**

"_No…It was not."_

Mycroft stared at his baby brother, having not expected that response from the self-proclaimed sociopath. In fact he had expected the exact opposite, especially since only three years previous the other would do anything for John Watson with no hesitation. Then again the man standing beside him did not seem to be the same man that had faked his death three years ago. This, this was another person. He was colder, angrier, and his eyes…his eyes were so empty.

It was like he'd lost all will to live, all will to fight. What had happened to his brother to take the life from those eyes?

"Explain?" The elder Holmes demanded and Sherlock's lips quirked up into a tiny smile.

"You wouldn't understand, Brother Mine. Not until the world you know is dragged from beneath your feet and everyone you hold dear is ripped away from you."

"John Watson still lives." Mycroft pointed out confused.

"Yes." The younger monotoned.

"So explain." Mycroft demanded once more and a cold laugh left the other.

"I have lived beyond this time. The Baskerville compound was working on a project to create the ultimate human warrior. In my original time I and 99 others survived the experiments. We were used as weapons in the long wars that followed our creation then condemned as war criminals by those we fought for. In that time, you, John, Mrs. Hudson, you all died before the wars had even began to wane. After Me and my crew were condemned we were exiled from the planet and forced to flee." He paused and grief flashed in his eyes.

"We fled earth in one of the early federation ships, the Botany Bay and put ourselves into cryogenics tubes hoping that when we awoke the world would be a much better place. Three hundred years later I was awakened by Admiral _Marcus _and forced to build weapons and warships to help him militarize the world's peacekeeping force, The Starfleet." Mycroft raised an eyebrow at the hate in his brother's voice. He'd never heard the other sound so venomous, not even when speaking of Moriarty.

"He used my crew, my family as blackmail. Every time I disobeyed or he felt I needed to be further under his thumb, he'd kill one of them and force me to watch. I began to try and smuggle them away, hiding them in the very weapons I was creating to protect them, but I was caught and forced to flee. Of the 99 family members I had been created with, only seventy two were alive when I left Marcus." 

Sherlock fell silent, and looked at Mycroft who had been staring at him, enraptured by the picture his words had spun for him. Remembering what happened next, a bitter laugh left the Augment.

"Vengeance clouded my thoughts and rage filled my very being because all I could remember as I fled was Marcus' cold voice promising me that my escape meant their deaths and I had every reason to believe him. So I responded in kind. I coerced one of Marcus' officers into blowing up the base I'd been held at by promising to cure his deathly ill daughter using my blood. After wards I stole one of the Starfleet's ships and opened fire on their headquarters. The room I fired upon was a room where all the admirals, captains, and first officers were meeting, and Marcus was in attendance. Unfortunately as of all the people killed in that room from my attack, he was not amongst them. One of the men in the room crippled my ship as I went to fly away so I escaped using a portable transporter to move to a planet known as Qo'nos." He paused and a small smirk crossed his lips.

"They sent the Starfleet's poster boy after me. Captain James Tiberius Kirk, captain of the U.S.S Enterprise. He's one of the most…thrilling people I've ever met. He's brash and cocky, and one of the most intelligent humans I've ever met. Of the Starfleet, he is the only one I respect. His crew ended up in an altercation with the Klingons, the inhabitants of Qo'nos while searching the planet for me. I was prepared to allow them to be killed by the aliens but the Kirk's helmsman sent out a message for me. Give myself up or he would deliver a payload of 72 armed torpedoes onto the planet."

"Your crew?" Mycroft replied and his brother nodded.

"Yes. I later discovered that Kirk had been ordered to kill me using those torpedoes. The threat gave me hope that maybe I would be able to save my family after all so I took out the Klingons threatening Kirk and offered my surrender. He accepted…after punching me in the face over and over until his arm grew weak."

The elder Holmes raised an eyebrow at the amusement in the other's voice, inwardly noting that this 'Kirk' seemed to be the only thing to bring any type of positive emotion to his brother's eyes.

"You sound as if you enjoyed it."

"I barely felt it. The serum that I was given make it so that my cells regenerate too fast for my body to have time to receive pain signals. Even under Marcus' tender mercies the pain I felt was fleeting. He tortured me for hours on end yet at the end of it all I still escaped unscathed, for the most part."

"For the most part?"

Sherlock's face went blank but he didn't answer Mycroft's question. Instead he continued on with his story as if he hadn't heard him.

"He locked me in the brig of his ship and took a bit of my blood while I tried to convince him of my story. I don't think he believed me until his ship malfunctioned when he tried to put her into warp. His warp core malfunctioned in enemy space and only moment later Marcus called him demanding that I be transported to his ship. Kirk had his men move me to his ship's med bay and then told Marcus he would transport him to his ship. He didn't and Marcus called him once more demanding that I be handed over and when Kirk refused him he threatened Kirk's crew. We invaded his ship to save them with the help of Kirk's for chief of engineering, Scotty. Once we secured the ship and arrived on the bridge, Kirk's companion tried to incapacitate me and I pretended it had work."

A savage, maniacal grin appeared on the face of his baby brother, his eyes alight with an unholy gleam.

"I crushed Marcus' skull with my bare hands and I savored the terror in his eyes as I did so. Then I threatened Kirk's XO and told him to return my crew to me or I'd kill everyone aboard the ship. I was so relieved when seventy two torpedoes were transported onto the ship I'd taken and I returned Kirk and the other's to their ship. As soon as they were gone, the torpedoes armed themselves and detonated. My crew, my family were gone. I had been so close but I'd failed."

Sherlock's voice broke at the reminder and Mycroft was shocked to see a tear escape his mercurial eyes. His heart went out to the younger man knowing that the loss had to have affected him badly. Sherlock had never been good at failing and family was everything to him. To have lost those that had kept him sane not once but thrice had to have been agonizing for him. It was for this reason that Mycroft had tried tell his brother that caring was not an advantage especially in his case. He cared too much once someone made it past his shields.

It was now that he realized just why his brother had said what he had. Of course he'd believe that Watson living wouldn't be worth faking his death because for him all it had led to was three centuries of heartbreak and tragedy for him.

"You understand now." Sherlock rumbled and he gave an elegant nod.

"Will you be able to integrate back into today's society after all of that? The world still needs Sherlock Holmes, brother mine."

The augment frowned.

"No one is to know of what I just told you, Mycroft. Not even your precious Queen."

"You have my word."

"Very well then. Tomorrow, Sherlock Holmes shall rise from the dead."

**TBC…**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: So this chapter is show what's going on Jim's world now that Khan is gone. Pining ahead! XD Enjoy.**

**Chapter Four**

Something was wrong with him.

Pain wracked his lithe muscular frame making him tremble violently where he lay on his bed and cold sweat slicked his creamy tanned skin. His heart jerked in his chest and he whimpered curling in on himself while his body protested the movement.

This had become a common occurrence for him since Khan's death three weeks prior and though he tried valiantly to hide it from his crew members, he knew that whatever this illness was, it was starting to affect his work performance. He found himself drifting off in the midst of important conversations to keep the pain from overwhelming him when it flared up during his shift and fighting to stay standing when his legs suddenly felt weak. In addition to that vomiting blood became a regular thing for him and somehow after every meal he found himself doing so.

The young captain gave a weary sigh and forced his trembling frame into a seated position so that he could check the time.

4:50am, terra time. Ten minutes until his shift was set to start. Heaving another sigh and ignoring the pain in his body he got dressed and plastered on a believable smile, before leaving his room to face the day.

The first three hours of his shift passed in relative peace. Sulu and Chekov sat in their area bickering quietly as they worked, while Spock shot them disapproving looks, and Uhura gazed at Spock with longing in her eyes. All in all it was a normal morning for them and it made it easier to ignore how the pain in his body was slowly growing stronger with each passing second. It was easy to ignore how his body screamed with every subtle twitch and movement he made.

However the more he ignored it the stronger it grew and by the end of the fourth hour he was finding it hard to keep the pain hidden.

White hot agony worse than any he'd ever felt engulf his very being and a small gasp left his lips. His stomach churned violently and another louder whimper left him, his fevered blue eyes widening in distress. Spock noticing his distress, quickly moved to his side, ordering someone to page McCoy.

"Jim, Are you injured?"

Jim whimpered and choked on a cough, blood speckling his full pink lips as they parted for breath. "H-Hurts."

A gasping breath left him and he fought not to scream as most of the pain centralized on his heart. Cold quicksilver eyes flashed behind his eyelids and to his horror, sob left him. His XO frowned and gently lifted him from the Chair and into his arms.

"Mr. Sulu, you have the conn. Send Dr. McCoy to the captain's quarters."

The helmsman nodded, concern clear in not only his eyes, but those of the entire command crew as they watched him leave the bridge.

Jim stared up his first officer, electric eyes wide and full of agony.

"Make it stop." He pleaded ad Spock's heart broke for his T'hyla's, his brother's broken tone. "Please, Spock. It hurts. N-need him."

The vulcan frowned, laying his friend down on his bed, watching worriedly as the blonde's entire body gave a vicious jerk. Another coughing fit descended upon the man and a thin trail of blood trailed down his chin, tears welling in his eyes.

Dr. McCoy rushed in at the moment, immediately waving his tricorder over the ailing captain, expression grim as his dark eyes read the results.

"Sonvabitch!" He snarled pulling a hypo from his belt.

"Bones?" Jim rasped.

"Doctor?" Spock inquired at the same time.

"It's Khan's blood. Somehow it created a sort of bond between you and him. Since we killed him like he asked, the bond is killing you so that you can join him."

Both Jim and Spock's eyes went wide at that revelation.

"Is it possible that Khan knew of this when he asked the captain to destroy his cryotube?"

Said captain immediately shook his head remembering the emptiness in the augment's eyes when he had asked him to destroy his tube.

"No, he asked because he," White hot agony lanced through his heart and he clutched his chest as if to crush it, powering on to finish his sentence. "He believed that he was alone in the world. He told me he wanted it destroyed so that he wouldn't be awakened again." A shuddering breath left him and Bones pursed his lips, injecting the younger man with the hypo.

"He could've lied."

Once more Jim shook his head, relief filling him as the pain dulled slightly. "No, no one can fake a grief like that. A grief so terr-terrible it makes you feel hollow and empty. He believed he'd lost it all and he didn't want to be awakened again to be alone."

Spock nodded, dark eyes flashing his captain's defense of the man that had was now the cause of his death for the second time in a row, yet knowing not to argue with him.

Evidently, the doctor had no such qualms.

"The man tried to kill you! Hell, he did kill you!"

"Not intentionally! Bones, if he had wanted to kill me he could have at any time he was aboard our ship! He knew the schematics for this ship almost as well as Scotty and he knew ever weakness of her! Marcus made him design most of the ship's upgrades! Even when he fired on us with the vengeance he purposely hit the strongest areas of the ship to give us a chance to survive all the while believing his _family _was dead!"

Jim yelled at his friend, gasping as the pain in his heart flared in response to his heightened emotions.

Spock frowned. "How do you know all this? It wasn't in any of the reports we received."

"Admiral Marcus's PADD had everything on it. He had everything from predictions of how long Khan would allow us to hold him in the brig before simply striking the glass' weak point and kill all to documentation of the horrific treatment Khan received at his hand. In all honesty after reading what I did, I probably would've reacted the same way he did."

He whispered softly and both of his friends placed supporting hands on his shoulder. As their skin met his the pain flared up worse than anything he'd ever felt before, blinding in its' intensity. He screamed, distantly hearing the calls of his friends as a gold light engulfed him. As suddenly as it came, it dispersed and he slipped into blissful unconsciousness.

**TBC…**

4 Page


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I'm back with the next chapter of Prelude 12/21! I can't help but love this story and I hope you lot enjoy it as well. On to the chapter!**

**Warning: Reichenbach Spoilers!**

**Chapter Five**

Sherlock Holmes.

So long had passed since he'd worn that name, since he'd been the nothing more than the consulting detective that loved to chase criminals as an alternative to getting high. During the war, he'd often wondered if he should've just kept getting high, stayed the addict. He'd wondered if being sober had been worth the agony of Moriarty's experiments and the pain of losing those he held dear. Then, he'd think about his loved ones, Mrs. Hudson, John, Lestrade, _his crew_, and he thinks that just maybe it was.

Still, as he stared at his reflection in the mirror his brother had provided for him, he could almost see Sherlock Holmes, the consulting detective, rather than Khan, the warrior of future that had yet to pass. His hair wasn't short and straight, it was wild and curly as it had been, falling to his shoulders and his eyes, while still their same startling quicksilver, seemed a little less empty.

He sighed straightening the lapels on his black suit, then he turned and strode out of the room, trying and failing to leave Khan behind.

221b Baker Street.

His home. He hadn't seen it so long, and he had nearly forgotten the feeling of safety it had given him, the feeling of _home._

Now standing on the front steps of the building, Sherlock found himself staring at it in wonder, memories flashing through his mind at a speed that would be incomprehensible to anyone else.

He thought of the cases.

"_How about these suicides, Sherlock? Thought that might be something you'd like."_

_He hmmed at Mrs. Hudson's words, his gaze focused on the people milling around outside the building. The woman continued speaking, used to his nonverbal responses._

"_Three suicides, all caused by the same thing. What a terrible business."_

_A police cruiser pulled outside and a harried Lestrade exited, rushing into the building._

"_Four." He corrected and for a moment, Mrs. Hudson seemed confused, her hazel eyes seeking his own, so he sought to clarify."_

"_There's been a fourth." She nodded in understanding, starting Lestrade appeared in the doorway._

"_Sherlock,"_

"_There's been a fourth," He repeated. "What's different about this one? You wouldn't' have come to me if it were the same as the others."_

"_You know how the others didn't leave a note?"_

_He nodded._

"_Well this one did."_

"_Where?"_

"_Brixton. 221 Lauristen Gardens."_

He thought of his friends.

Mrs. Hudson.

"_I'm not your house-keeper."_

Lestrade.

"_You're pretty smart, Kid. What's your name?"_

John.

"_That was amazing."_

Mycroft.

"_Sherlock, little brother, caring is not an advantage."_

These people, people he hadn't seen in over 300 years, were all he had left. His crew was dead, and the people at Baskerville who would've been his crew were also dead. All he had left were these- these _ghosts _and he would protect them because they were **his.**

'_Go to Baker Street.'-MH_

John froze, staring down at the text on the screen in dread. Why would Mycroft be ordering him to go back to that place? Why now, when he had finally gathered the courage to move on? The only reason he could see himself needing to go back to Baker Street now was Mrs. Hudson, and she was away visiting her sister. There was no reason for him to go there only to be reminded of that horrible, horrible day.

_John knew the moment his phone rang that something was wrong. Sherlock never called, he preferred texting so why after almost a year was the man actually __**calling **__him?_

_He stepped out of the cab, ready to give the consulting detective a piece of his mind, but he was cut off._

"_Turn around and walk back the way you came."_

_He frowned. What the hell was Sherlock on about? _

"_No, I'm coming in." He argued, wondering how the hell Sherlock even knew where he was._

"_Just do as I ask!" The detective yelled and John felt dread pool in his gut at the panic in his friend's voice. _

"_Please." Sherlock's voice broke and John was stunned. It almost sounded like Sherlock was...crying. He decided to do as the younger man asked, looking around for any indication of the man._

"_Where?" He inquired bewildered._

"_Stop there." The detective ordered softly, suddenly calm. John scowled, confusion warring with the dread threatening to overwhelm him._

"_Sherlock?"_

"_Okay, look up. I'm on the rooftop."_

_The doctor turned and looked up, gasping in horror as he took in the slender form of his best friend standing on the ledge of the St. Bart's roof, long black belstaff fluttering behind him like a cape. _

"_Oh, God." He whispered._

"_I-I can't come down, so we'll…we'll just have to do it like this." The detective continued as if he hadn't heard him. The dread in John gut turned to full blown terror as he realized exactly what was happening. _

_No! Not Sherlock! He wouldn't do this…would he?_

"_What's going on?"_

"_An apology. It's all true." _

"_W-what?"_

"_Everything they said about me. I…invented Moriarty." _

_The doctor shook his head, wondering just what his friend was trying to do. Had he truly forgotten that John had met Moriarty? Hell, Sherlock hadn't even known what he looked like when they met if the betrayal on his face when John walked out at the pool house was anything to go by. So why was he saying this?_

"_Why are you saying this?"_

_Sherlock's voice was full of tears when he spoke. "I'm a fake." _

"_Sherlock-"_

"_The newspapers were right all along," He continued, ignoring John's attempt to reassure him. "I want you to tell Lestrade. I want you to tell Mrs. Hudson and Molly. Tell anyone who will listen…that I created Moriarty for my own purposes."_

_The detective's voice was definitely crying, his voice trembling and broken._

_John shook his head stubbornly._

"_Okay Shut up. Sherlock, shut up. The first time we met- the _first _time we met, you knew all about my sister, right?"_

_Up on the rooftop he saw Sherlock shake his head. Once more that false calm settled over the man's voice._

"_Nobody could be that clever."_

"_You could." John stated adamantly and a weak, mirthless laugh left the younger man._

"_I researched you." He lied, matter-of-factly. "Before we met, I discovered everything that I could to impress you…It's a trick. Just a magic trick." _

"_No. All right, stop it now." John demanded, taking a step forward. Sherlock threw up his hand._

"_No! Stay exactly where you are!" Sherlock yelled, suddenly panicked. "Don't move. Keep your eyes fixed on me. Please, will you do this for me?"_

_The doctor faltered back a step with his hands up, hoping that Sherlock really wasn't going to go through with what he planned._

"_Do what?"_

"_This phone call…it's-it's my note. Poor people do, don't they? Leave a note?"_

_John's eyes widened and he realized that Sherlock really planned to do it._

"_Leave a note when?" He inquired dreadfully."_

"_Goodbye John." _

"_No, don't-"_

_Sherlock tossed the phone onto the rooftop behind him, spread his arms…and fell._

The rest of time from that moment to the funeral had passed in a blur for John and for a while he was in denial about the fact that Sherlock was dead. It was only when he awakened from a nightmare, to silence as opposed to the sound of the Stradivarius that he knew that Sherlock was well and truly gone.

Now here was Mycroft telling him to go back to the place he'd shared with the man, after he'd _finally _moved past it. He'd finally gathered the courage to move away from Baker Street. Granted he was practically living in a motel room, but it was better than being surrounded by the memories and the _pain._

It was better than being reminded of what he'd lost.

'_You won't regret it.'-MH_

'_Why? I've finally moved on, Mycroft! Why are you trying to force me to go there?'_

He texted back, desperate for an explanation because Mycroft, while cold, was not a cruel man. He had been one of John's main supporters during his depression over Sherlock's death.

'_You won't regret it, John.'_

John stared down at his phone warily, his heart pounding anxiously in his chest. What should he do? Mycroft would never lead him astray, despite what he'd done to Sherlock and over the past three years he had come to truly trust the man.

Taking a deep breath, and steeling his nerves…the doctor turned and walked towards Baker Street.

When he arrived, Mycroft and Anthea were standing outside waiting for him, the former frowning slightly as he took in John's haggard appearance.

"Why am I here, Mycroft?" The former soldier asked tiredly.

Mycroft didn't respond, instead he turned and unlocked the door, gesturing for John to enter, before he and Anthea followed him inside.

A soft, soothing sound reached the doctor's ears upon his entrance and he froze. It was a sound that he had yearned for desperately for almost three years.

Sherlock's Stradivarius.

Of course, it could have been anyone, logically, but he knew without a doubt that it was Sherlock because the melody being played was one of the detective's original pieces, one that John held very dear to his heart because it had been written the night before Sherlock died.

Without another thought the doctor raced up the stairs, praying that it meant what he thought it did, that he wasn't dreaming.

He wasn't.

There, swaying at the window, was Sherlock Holmes.

**TBC…**

**A/N: Ooookay then…so tell me what you guys think.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Don't own. **

**Chapter Six**

Sherlock was alive.

John stared wide-eyed at the swaying detective, who didn't seem to have noticed their presence, devouring the changes that the time away had done for the man.

Lean, tightly packed muscle rippled on his slender frame, his curls falling in a messy array of curls down to his shoulder, and his sway was slightly predatory, eerily reminding John of a cobra prepared to strike.

He was _alive._

Why had he faked his death? Why hadn't he told John? And why the hell did something seem extremely off about his friend.

"Sherlock." Mycroft called quietly and the detective stilled, his eyes still closed.

"Mycroft. Anthea. John." He greeted and the former doctor shivered. He sounded so cold, his voice a dark rumbling purr.

"Sherlock." John greeted, voice breaking and those stunning quicksilver eyes slid open halfway to meet his gaze. The blond jerked and tears filled his eyes as they narrowed into a glare.

"You utter bastard!" He roared punching the man in the face over and over again. To his surprise the man didn't even flinch. If anything he looked amused. Relief overwhelmed him and he pulled the man into a tight hug.

"I missed you." Sherlock stiffened at his words and awkwardly hugged him back.

"I...missed you as well." He replied slowly, as if he were unsure of the words and John pulled back, hurt.

Mycroft cleared his throat, reminding them both of his presence and Sherlock tensed glancing back at him warily. Seeing that he had their attention, the 'british government' began to speak.

"Sherlock, the...incident from a few days ago has been taken care of and Her Majesty would like me to personally welcome you back. Now if you would excuse me I have a conference with..." He paused then shook his head. "Well it really wouldn't do for you to know that, would you? Goodbye John. Welcome back, brother mine."

The detective nodded at his words, while John frowned in confusion. Once Mycroft and Anthea were gone he turned to his friend who was watching him with a small frown.

"You haven't been taking care of yourself properly." He observed and the doctor glared at him.

"You've been dead for three years." He replied mockingly. "Why, Sherlock? Why would you do that to me? To ? To go gallivanting around the world solving crimes and fighting Moriarty?! Gods, did you even know how bad it would hurt us if you were gone?! was so devastated that she almost-"

"Moriarty is dead." John stilled.

"What?"

"Moriarty gave me an ultimatum, I chose the best path in the face of the alternative and went underground to destroy his crime network. I apologize for the fact that my death affected you so adversely but I do not apologize for my actions. John stared at his friend, shocked by his cold monotone and the way his pale eyes were blazing with an almost fierce emotion.

"Okay." He replied quietly.

The detective eyed him for a moment then shook his head, placing his Stardivarius back in its case.

"Come."

The doctor raised an eyebrow, watching as the younger man donned his belstaff and his scarf over the simple black turtleneck and black slacks he'd been wearing when John arrived.

"Where are we going?" 

"Angelo's." He paused and smirked. "Then to the Yard."

The blond snickered, imagining the looks on everyone's faces when Sherlock arrived.

They wouldn't know what hit them.

When Lestrade arrived home from work that night all he wanted was to get in his bed and rest. It had been a long trying day starting with the arrival of the supposed to be dead Sherlock Holmes.

The detective had strolled into the station with John Watson faithfully on his heels as if he'd never left, and asked for a case. He was not afraid to say that he'd fainted, then punched the bastard in the face.

Now, as he approached his front porch, all he wanted to do was rest. Instead, he found three men lying unconcious in front of his door, one of whom looked deathly pale and was soaked in sweat.

He groaned.

Looks like he wasn't getting any rest after all.

**TBC...**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

It was just a nightmare.

Logically, Khan was very much aware of this fact but somehow he was unable to stop the cold terror racing down his spine and the bitter hatred clouding his mind as he stared into the dead eyes of his tormentor.

_Marcus stared back at him, eyes expressionless even as his lips stretched into a dark grin._

_"Can you feel pain, Khan?"_

_He remained silent, turning his head away from that haunting gaze. Thick iron bands, coated in adamantium bound him to a steel dissection table making it impossible for him to do much else._

_"Can you?" The man repeated, his voice full of malignant curiosity as he circled his prone form._

_Khan stayed silent, mentally steeling himself for what was to come. Marcus never visited him just to ask questions, there was always some sort of pain involved._

_The admiral slowed to a stop and gestured for two of his scientists to step forward. Then he donned a surgical mask and a pair of rubber gloves and chuckled lowly._

_"Since you won't cooperate, let's fin out on our own."_

_A sharp, razor edge instrument came to life somewhere near his thigh with a loud whirring sound and Khan forced himself not to tremble in fear as the man picked it up and lowered it to the bare skin of his abdomen. For a moment he felt nothing but a slight stinging sensation where the tool cut into his skin, however as the instrument continued to cut into his skin the stinging escalated into a searing white hot agony that left him blinded and he couldn't help himself._

_He screamed._

Khan- no Sherlock let out a choked gasp as he bolted awake in his room, quicksilver eyes wide as they darted around the room. He hadn't dreamed of his time in Marcus' captivity since being taken aboard the _Enterprise, _or rather since meeting the ships captain and although he was well aware of the implications of such a thing he chose to ignore it.

Taking a deep, calming breath he forced himself to relax, forcing his mind to the present when it tried to drift to James Kirk. What was it about the blond he found so captivating? Why did he even care? Kirk was in the future, he was here in the past surrounded by ghosts and figments of a past life he wasn't even sure he fit anymore. For the past three hundred years and even fifteen years before that, Khan was all he'd known. The thirty one years before the war, before the Fall, he'd been Sherlock Holmes but he was jaded and different from then. Broken and pieced together to fit a different mold entirely. It begged the question of who was he?

Was he Khan Noonien Singh, the war criminal falsely accused of crimes he had been ordered to commit?

Was he John Harrison, the alias Marcus had so graciously bestowed upon him so that he could serve as a weapon and quartermaster hidden in an organization of peace?

Or was he Sherlock Holmes, the consulting detective so oblivious to the evil of humanity and the world around him, despite chasing the scum of mankind daily?

Who was he?

Sherlock frowned deeply at his own thoughts. He was none of those things...and yet he was all of them.

He was Khan Noonien Singh, the ruler that had led mankind to the end of the Eugenic's war. The super soldier they condemned because of their fear of his intellect and his power.

He was John Harrison, the Starfleet commander of Section 31 that was also and international terrorist because if his vendetta against the man who awakened him.

And, he _was _Sherlock Holmes, although he was no longer innocent in the ways of the world. He was no longer oblivious to the stupidity and prejudice of mankind, no longer unaware of just how cruel humans could be. After Baskerville and Marcus, he could no longer afford such ignorance.

Shoving the thoughts away, the consulting detective slid from his bed and began to dress, silver-and-sky eyes gleaming.

It was entirely too early to be thinking such thoughts, especially when he could be using the time to solve the cold cases Lestrade had given him to help him reestablish his reputation.

****TREKLOCK _KHIRK_TREKLOCK****

Lestrade frowned deeply as he observed the three men lying in his guest bedroom.

One was a tall slender blonde that was around 6'2 or 6'3 with messy honey gold hair and lightly tanned skin that was currently slicked with cold sweat and pale under the soft tan.

The next one was a bit strange. He was the same height as his blonde counterpart but his raven black hair fell in a neat bowl cut over his sharply shaped eyebrows and pointed ears.

The last man was scowling in his sleep and had messy brown hair cropped short, and a neat shadow of his beard, his lean muscles very visible under his skin tight clothing.

He'd lain the blond on the bed, having noticed that he seemed to be the worst off out of his guest. On the floor he'd laid the pointy-eared guy and the other guy on his thickest blankets on the floor since they seemed fine enough, just unconscious. Two days had passed since he'd found the trio on his doorstep and none of them had so much as stirred, although he did noticed that the blond on the bed was slowly gaining some color back in his cheeks.

The pointy eared man stirred on the blanket and Lestrade raised an eyebrow at him, watching as his eyes fluttered open to reveal calm dark chocolate orbs.

They moved around the room, slightly bewildered before landing on the DI in the doorway. Their owner sat up stiffly but kept his gaze where it had landed.

"Who are you?" He rumbled but the other brunette awakened with a groan before Lestrade could respond.

"Jim, we're never drinkin' again." He complained and his companion raised an eyebrow.

"I do not believe this a result of you and the Captain's intoxication, ."

McCoy sent him a disgruntled look, then turned his gaze to the sleeping blonde, ignoring Lestrade's presence completely.

"Jim?" He called, moving to his friend's side.

A soft pained moan left the unconscious blond.

"Khan." He whispered and both of his companions scowled.

"Excuse me." Lestrade interrupted. "Who are you?"

"I am Commander Spock, First Officer of the Enterprise."

" , Chief Medical Officer of the Enterprise and the blond is our Captain, James Kirk."

"The Enterprise?" Lestrade questioned, raising an eyebrow as the doctor waved a strange instrument over Kirk's prone frame.

"A Starfleet ship built by the Federation in the year 2253."

"What?! What the hell are you on about. There is no 2253. It 2013, mate."

Both men paled, and McCoy let out a loud curse.

"You mean to tell us we're in the past."

"That's not all, Dr." Spock interjected and McCoy glared at him.

"What now?!"

"We are in the time before Khan."

McCoy stared at him then looked at his captain then at Lestrade, who sighed.

"This is Sherlock's fault somehow, I'm sure of it." He muttered before looking at his guests,

"Wait here. I'm gonna get in contact with a...friend of mine and see if he can make new identities for you guys. If you really are from the future you won't exist here."

"Thank you." Spock replied nodding and the DI shook his head and left the room. He was getting entirely too old for this shit... and he still had to call Mycroft.

**TBC...**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

John frowned deeply as he observed Sherlock from behind the safety of his laptop. A week had passed since the man's return and in that time he'd noticed many subtle and not so subtle changes in him.

First, there was the way he spoke. The cold drawl was no longer laced with arrogance, instead there seemed to be an indifference in it that made him shudder at times. Then there were those blank contemplative stares that befell the detective at the worst of times.

Worst, however, were the nightmares.

Sherlock believed he'd been able to keep him unaware of them but had conveniently forgotten that John had some of his own. On one such night, he'd gotten up to make himself some tea after another dream about the detective's death, but had stopped upon passing Sherlock's door thanks to a strange, choking sound. Worried, he'd gone to knock only to hear the man cry out in absolute agony. He'd busted into the room expecting the worse only to find his friend tangled in his bed sheets and caught in the throws of a vicious nightmare. With gentle words, he managed to soothe the detective and leave without him knowing and he never brought it up but he couldn't help but wonder what had happened in those three years he was gone.

"You're staring."

He jolted and looked up, finding himself meeting amused silver eyes. He blushed and coughed sheepishly.

"I-er-"

Sherlock rolled his eyes but the corner of his lips curled up slightly and John cursed himself for the warmth it sent racing through him. He'd had feelings for the slender man long before The Fall, but since his return those feelings seemed to have amplified themselves leaving him flustered.

"You're curious." His friend continued and he nodded.

"What...what happened while you were away?"

Sherlock's face went blank. "I hunted Moriarty's web down piece by piece and _annihilated_ it."

John pursed his lips but didn't push, knowing his friend wasn't telling the entire truth. Instead he turned his laptop toward him.

"New case."

The detective sent him a scrutinizing look then nodded slowly.

"Alright."

* * *

_"Well isn't this unexpected?"_

_His breath hitched in his throat, heart racing at the smooth silky baritone voice that had haunted him for weeks now. He spun around, eyes widening as they took in the imposing figure behind him._

_"K-Khan?"_

_Darkness shrouded them, caressing the augments pale skin and causing it to glow ethereally in the eternal darkness around him, giving him a soft, angelic beauty that contrasted his savage nature. His quicksilver eyes glittered with an emotion too dark for him to name, thin lips curled into a dangerous smirk._

_"The very same, Captain Kirk."_

_Jim frowned deeply, noting absently that the pain that had wracked him since the augments death was gone, as was the tremors and cold sweats. He ignored it, glancing around him suspiciously._

_"Where am I?"_

_"I believe the term is a dreamscape, Kirk. Do you know why you're here?"_

_The blonde shook his head, forcing away a pleasant shiver as Khan's voice hit his ears._

_The dark haired man frowned at him, pale eyes narrowing into diamond shards._

_For a moment he was silent, gaze laser focused on the man before him, then he chuckled. It was low deep sound not unlike a growl and Jim felt something in him cower at the sound._

_"My blood affected you. You, my dear Captain, are no longer human." The blonde's eyes widened and panic danced across his frayed nerves._

_"W-what?"_

_Khan's smirk seemed unholy in the vast darkness around him and it seemed to turn his insides to ice._

_"The experiments evolved before the Eugenics' Wars as a result of the lack of females who survived the transformation process. The serums gave us each a sub-gender to adapt with the possibility of extinction. The sub-genders are Alpha and Omega. Alphas are only male and cannot Sire children with anyone other than an Omega. Omegas can be male or female and can only bare children not sire them."_

_Dread pooled in the young Captain's gut._

_"What does this mean for me?"_

_Khan seemed to sense his apprehension because something like guilt and sympathy flashed in his eyes before quickly vanishing behind the cold veneer of the man from before._

_"You are an Omega."_

_"Om-omega? No...I- I'm not like you."_

_This time the sympathy in the dark haired man's eyes was easy to see and it made Jim recoil violently._

_"I'm not!"_

_Khan sighed softly, silver eyes softening slightly._

_"Your body is changing as we speak. However, if things are as I think they are there is a strong possibility that the transformation may kill you."_

_The Captain stared, eyes wide._

_"What?!"_

_"Omega's cannot survive long if they are not bound to an alpha by the night of their first heat. However they can only mate with their bonded, no other. IF anyone else tries the Omega's body will reject them and they will experience a burning pain through the bond they share with their alpha. If they are ot bonded the shock can kill them."_

_Something tugged at Jim's awareness cutting off his next question and Khan sighed once more._

_"It is time for you to awaken. We shall talk again soon." Something unreadable flashed across his aristocratic features. "Until then, Captain."_

_The blonde's lips parted as if he were gonna speak but the world tilted around him then...Khan was gone.._

And he was staring up into familiar worried hazel eyes.

"Bones?"

The doctor sighed in relief, then scowled at him.

"Don't you ever do that again! You've been unconscious for almost a week!"

He blinked and glanced around, noting with slight panic that he was definitely not on his ship.

"Where are we?"

Spock appeared beside him, lips down turned in a noticeable frown.

"It appears, Captain, that we have traveled over three centuries into the past."

**TBC...**

* * *

**A/N: I'm not very satisfied with this chapter...however R&amp;R and let me know what you think. I hope the explanation for the sub-genders wasn't too confusing.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

"_Let me give you a little extra incentive," his insides froze at the sly, saccharine tone of Moriarty's voice, shattering at the next words to leave the psychotic man's lips. "Your friends will die if you don't."_

_The rooftop changed suddenly, Moriarty's face morphing into Jim Kirk's angry face._

"_You're a murderer!"_

_His heart clenched and he had no idea why. What did he care what the –beautiful- captain thought of him._

_**Liar**_

_He shivered, curling in on himself, never noticing that his surroundings had changed until a sharp pain lanced across his back._

_A cat-o-nine whip. One of the few tools in the world that actually _**hurt **_him. One of the sharp metal barbs dug into the flesh of his back and he gritted his teeth._

_He wouldn't scream. Not for them, never them._

"_How does it feel to have a taste of your own medicine?" His assailant, one of the Section 31 agents under Marcus, growled._

_He didn't respond, gasping as the whip came down again and again, five times in rapid motion._

_How did he explain that he'd only done what they'd asked of him?_

_How did he tell them that his family had been horribly wronged?_

_Darkness crept into his vision, pain wracking his naked frame until he finally gave in and screamed._

_He couldn't._

* * *

Mycroft frowned inwardly as he observed the three men in front of him.

When Lestrade had called him, he honestly hadn't known what to expect, however it certainly wasn't for him to ask for him to create three knew identities. He had compromised by asking to meet the people Lestrade needed the identities for only to find himself looking into the faces of the very same people that had hurt his precious brother so much.

Commander Spock looked exactly as Sherlock had described him, with his blank expression, sharply arched eyebrows, bowl-cut, and pointed ears. Beside him, stood Commander Bones, his roguish features forming a dark but handsome scowl as he grumbled about one thing or another. Then there was captain Kirk.

James Kirk was beautiful, all lean muscle, too blue eyes, straw-colored hair and vivid grins. His skin was perfectly tanned, contrasting Sherlock's pale coloring and it was easy to see just how he'd ensnared the younger Holmes so completely.

"How…unexpected," He deadpanned and Bones glared at him.

"Can ya help us or not?!" He snapped.

Mycroft only raised an eyebrow at his outburst and turned to Jim.

"I am afraid that I have some bad news. It is distressingly possible that your…displacement in our time is permanent. Are you aware of that fact? Just you being here is already changing the future you know."

A troubled look crossed all three men's faces and the blond nodded slowly.

"So is it possible for us to keep our original names and all, just edit out the futuristic stuff?"

The British government smirked. He was much smarter than he appeared it seemed.

"It is. And if you would like I will set you all up with Jobs at the Scotland Yard. It should help you adjust to this time much faster."

They shared a look then nodded and Mycroft hummed softly, turning to leave.

"Excellent, I'll have the paperwork filed immediately and you can begin working tomorrow. You will be working under Gregory." He turned to the DI and gave a small, barely there smile, leaning over to kiss him chastely.

"I'll see you tomorrow, dear."

Greg nodded, blushing. "Thanks, My. I really appreciate it."

"It is or no consequence."

* * *

Working at Scotland Yard was both the same and different from working at Starfleet. While lacking in the strict protocols and slightly militaristic baring of Command, it had a friendly enough atmosphere and the guidelines were easy to adjust to. The work, while not being the fast-paced diplomatic and exploration he was used to, was fast paced and interesting enough to hold his attention. For the past two weeks he's been so caught up in adjusting to this new world that he'd almost forgotten the strange dream he'd had…that is until he found himself kneeling before Lestrade's toilet vomiting blood, his body wracked with shivers.

A low, pained moan left his throat and he heaved once more, Khan's words coming to mind unbidden along with a few unprecedented realizations.

Khan had told him that his body was changing to adjust to the changes in his biology courtesy of the augmented blood now running through his veins. It was turning him into an Omega, the child bearers of the Augmented race.

_He _was an Omega meaning he would to mate with an alpha by his first heat or die. He could only mate with an Alpha he shared a bond with. But who-

The color drained from his face and he heaved once more.

Khan.

Khan was his alpha.

Khan was dead.

…he was going to die.

* * *

Something strange was happening to him.

His instincts, the ones attributed to his subgender we fluctuating wildly, distracting him more and more with each passing day. A visceral need seemed to dance on the very edge of his senses, trying to force him to follow the tug nagging at the back of his mind. He ignored it with the single-minded focus he normally reserved for cases or missions, pondering what this occurrence could mean for him.

His Alpha mind told him that he knew very well that what he was experiencing was the call of an Omega nearing their first heat. An Omega that was compatible to both his fearsome strength and his dangerous intellect. An Omega that could and should be his.

His logical mind, however told him that this century held no Omegas or Alphas barring himself. He had killed all the others in his rage when he had destroyed Baskerville. Even if they had survived his wrath, he wouldn't have experienced the Pull as the adaptations of their blood hadn't occurred until further down the line, near the end of the First Year.

So why was he feeling it now?

He frowned, narrowing his eyes in thought.

He didn't know, but he vowed to find out.

**TBC…**

**A/N: Happy Holidays! Please R&amp;R.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

Lestrade frowned worriedly as the youngest of his three housemates leaned heavily against the wall of his office, skin a sickly pale color.

In the two months that the three men had been living with him he had noticed that the young man was sick and as time passed he only seemed to be getting worse. Some days he found the blonde vomiting blood and weak, although the kid tried to hide it, especially from his friends. When asked he would say it was nothing and it was fine, but his eyes were full of pain and longing. It made Lestrade's heart ache for him.

A pained gasp left the blonde, his hand coming up to grip his chest tightly and the DI frowned.

"Jim?"

The kid waved him off, forcing himself to relax.

"I'm fine. I'm fine."

A skeptical snort sounded as Dr. McCoy entered carrying an armful of folders.

"Kid, you'd say you were fine if your head was separated from your shoulders and your limbs were mangled. Forgive us for the disbelief."

Jim scowled at him, blue eyes full of annoyance.

"I'm fine." He repeated and Bones narrowed his eyes.

"Bullshit."

"Bones-" He was cut off by Donovan as the woman entered wearing a dark scowl that could only mean one thing.

Sherlock.

"Sir, Freak's here."

Lestrade sighed while Bones and Jim looked at him curiously. He glanced at them for a moment then smiled wryly remembering that none of the time-travelers had met the self-proclaimed sociopath.

"Send him in." She frowned and opened her mouth to protest, before sighing and storming out. Once she was gone, Jim spoke.

"Freak?"

"Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft's younger brother. He's a self-proclaimed sociopath and a consulting detective that helps us on a freelance basis. Don't take anything he says personally, though. The man has the social skills of a child."

The two time travelers blinked at him but before they could speak the door flew open and Sherlock entered, John following behind him apologetically.

"Lestrade! Give me a ca-" He froze, silver-and-sky eyes darkening as they landed on Jim and Bones. The two time travelers had similar expressions, staring at him wide-eyed, a tiny glimmer of fear in Bones' eyes.

"K-Khan…" The doctor whispered hoarsely and a dark smirk crossed Sherlock's lips so different from any expression he'd ever seen on those pale features, cool gaze locked on Jim's wide one. The blonde, however looked like he was seeing a ghost.

"It was you." He rumbled and Jim swallowed, while Bones tensed.

"What was me?"

"Sherlock?" John question, seeming just as confused as Lestrade, the detective ddn't even glance at him, moving toward the young blonde in a smooth, predatory gait.

"You," His smirk widened. "Of course it was you, _Captain._ My blood, it changed you, claimed you. You are _mine._" He purred, large hand coming up to cup Jim's sickly pale cheeks as he leaned in only a hairsbreadth from the small man's mouth.

"_Omega. My Omega."_

Jim blushed, iridescent blue eyes glazing over with longing before he shook his head stubbornly.

"No, I-"

"I'd advise you remove your hands from the Captain before I am forced to shoot you." Sherlock scowled, obviously annoyed at the interruption, before turning to where Spock stood in the doorway with Sally, gun raised and aimed at the genius.

"Mr. Spock." The man greeted in an almost pleasant manner, if one ignored the icy hatred oozing from his words.

A sneer crossed Spock's normally blank face, yet there was a slight gleam of guilt to it that made Lestrade frown inwardly.

"Khan." He spat.

Lestrade scowled and stepped between them.

"What the hell is going on? You guys know each other?"

Sherlock sneered at him.

"Obviously, Lestrade. Do keep up."

John frowned at him.

"How?"

"Jim is mine." He replied, one hand curling around the blonde's wrist.

"I'm not!" The man protested and Sherlock glared at him.

"Don't be stupid, Kirk. Or are you unaware of the sickness coursing through your veins. Accept our bond or die, those are your _only_ two options."

Bones glared at him.

"You knew this would happen." He accused and Khan rolled his eyes.

"I didn't but feel free to blame me. It's not like you can do anything else to me, can you?" He sneered.

"Your family's alive in this time." Jim stated confused and Lestrade blinked. Sherlock had been to Jim's time...and they were dead?

The genius stared at them all for a moment then shook his head, gently letting go of the blonde's wrist.

"No. They are not."

John reached out to place a hand on his friend's shoulder but was shrugged off.

"Sherlock?"

"I suddenly find that my attentions are needed elsewhere. John, I'll see you later."

Spock stepped in front of the self-proclaimed sociopath.

"You will not be going anywhere until you disclose what you have done to the Captain."

Sherlock's eyes darkened, a snarl hovering on his lips.

"Move, _Vulcan_."

"No."

A large hand reached out and grabbed the Vulcan around the throat, lifting the man off the ground in an amazing show of strength.

"You are trying my patience, _Spock _and I already have very little for the likes of _**you.**_ How did it feel, Vulcan. To rip them out of my hands when they were in my reach," He threw the man away from him, rage in his every movement. John reached out to stop him, to placate him but his hand was shrugged off again as if it meant nothing.

"Khan," Jim called but it seemed as if Spock had flipped a switch because the detective wasn't deterred in the slightest. The slender man continued to move forward like a predator stalking his prey.

Lestrade sent a quick text to Mycroft and grabbed his young friend's arm when it seemed like he was gonna pick Spock up and throw him again.

"Alright everyone just calm down," He tried but Sherlock jerked away from him.

"Keep your hands to yourself or _lose it._" He hissed, grabbing the Vulcan from the ground but before he could throw him, another hand landed on his shoulder.

"That is enough, brother."

**TBC…**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

"_That is enough, brother."_

Sherlock stilled, artic blue eyes sliding from the Vulcan in front of him to the human at his side. For a moment he considered ignoring the man's words but this was _Mycroft_, who knew exactly how much he hated the man at his feet.

"You would deny me my vengeance?" He rumbled softly.

"I will if it would cost you your life, brother. You know how mummy worries."

He snorted, but released the Vulcan, his gaze dangerous as it tracked the other man's every movement.

"M-Mummy? Your mother?" Bones stammered and Mycroft sneered at him, although both Lestrade and John noticed the tiny glint of sympathy in the man's eyes.

"Captain Kirk, Commander McCoy, I would like to apologize for all the trouble my brother has caused you."

Jim stared at him blankly, remembering the terror Khan had caused when he had threatened his crew, the panic the augment had inscribed in everyone when he snarled at Spock. He recalled the rage the man had displayed only moments before, the all-encompassing vengeance radiating from his lean, powerful form.

Khan made it so easy to hate him.

So easy to ignore the given apology and just ignore it all together.

But he also thought of Khan's pain. Of the tears the man had shed when they had first captured him, the raw agony he had heard in his voice when he had listened to the USS Vengeance's last audio recordings. He thought about the hollow shell that he had awakened to find, and how the man had tried to avoid killing them even if they hadn't spared his family the same courtesy. Thought of that peaceful smile that had crossed the man's lips when he thought he had been sentenced back to the cryosleep and Kirk had promised to kill him the moment he fell asleep.

He couldn't even begin to hate the man.

The short man that had entered the room with Khan looked between them all with a deep frown, an expression matched by Lestrade's puzzled and slightly horrified expression.

"What the hell is going on here?!" Sally, Lestrade's second in command, screeched. The woman reminded him of a less classy version of Nyota, except she was far more annoying than his beautiful linguistics officer.

Plus, he got the feeling that she really disliked both of the Holmes brothers, Khan in particular.

The augment- _alpha_, his mind whispered purring- turned to her, his perfect features twisted into a condescending sneer.

"Sally, still scrubbing Anderson's floors I see." He clucked his teeth mockingly. "You really must stop that. His wife will find out there's a new maid eventually."

Jim choked, Bones gaping beside him, while Sally flushed indignantly.

"Now see here, Freak! Whatever you-"

"Yes, yes. I've been down this road before. Now if you would please leave the room. Every word you speak stifles my intellect."

Releasing a frustrated sound, the woman turned on her heel and left the room, leaving the seven men in silence.  
"Sherlock," The short blonde man said after a moment. "She does have a point. What the hell was that? You can't just attack a cop in a police station."

Khan's eyes flashed viciously, and flickered over to Spock before moving to meet Jim's own iridescent blue ones.

"If you hadn't looked so surprised to see me, I'd have thought you planned this. How did you get here?"

The elder blond looked affronted at having his questions ignored and Jim couldn't help but wonder the relationship the man had with Khan. All the same, he answered the augment, who's eyes softened as he spoke.

"I was in Med Bay with Bones and Spock because I've been sick since…"He paused sending the other a look to which he nodded. While we were talking, I started to glow then we woke up on Greg's porch three hundred years too far from home and Mycroft created identities for us to live under until we can get home."

Khan hummed softly and glanced at his brother who nodded silently to the unspoken question in the man's face.

Pulling his blonde companion forward he gestured to Kirk's crew.

"John, this is Captain James T. Kirk, his medic Commander Leonard McCoy, and his…second _Commander Spock._ Kirk, this is Captain John Watson, my…friend."

The_ Enterprise_ captain blinked in surprise, giving the small, unassuming man a good once over. With the baggy jumper and the cane, the man didn't seem very dangerous, but the steely glint in his eyes spoke otherwise.

"Nice to meet you." John greeted, shaking his hand before rounding on the brunette.

"Sherlock." He growled.

Rolling his eyes at the threat, the augment began to speak.

"Mr. Spock and I had a disagreement that ended in him killing someone very dear to me. I was just…repaying the favor."

Lestrade narrowed his eyes at him. "You've been dead the last three years, Sherlock." He deadpanned.

Khan smirked, all sharp edges and subtle rage, clearly at the end of his patience. "I've been informed."

Spock gave him a patented Vulcan sneer. "You killed my friend."

"Your friend lived. My family did not. My blood has given him strength even you would be hard fetched to match."

"What?" John gasped and Lestrade frowned. "Your family is still alive, Sherlock. Me and Myc just had them over for dinner a month ago."

Khan smirked, but it lacked any amusement.

"I suppose your marriage to Graham was left out of the reports, Brother mine."

Mycroft rolled his eyes.

"His name is Gregory, Sherlock."

"Really? We're just gonna pretend that this guy isn't one of the most wanted terrorists in the Federation and ignore everything he said about Jim being an Omega, _his _Omega? Instead we're gonna sit here and argue about what his brother's husband's name is?!" Bones cut in incredulously, at the end of his rope.

Everyone stared at him, and Khan's eyes darkened, Mycroft's hand on his arm the only thing placating him.

The British Government's dark eyes were biting as he glared at them all.

"Today has been a very trying day. We will reconvene at my office tomorrow to discuss this situation like civil people."

He turned to Sherlock. "Mind your temper, Little Brother."

Jim bit his lip to keep from snorting. It was slightly odd to see the most dangerous man he'd ever faced be chastised like a young child.

A sudden cough racked his frame, blood pooling in his mouth and spilling down his chin without his consent. Wrapping his arms around himself, he looked up at Khan with wide terrified eyes, his body wracked with tremors and dark spots dotting his vision before he fell forward unconscious.

**TBC…**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

_He turned to Sherlock. "Mind your temper, Little Brother."_

_Jim bit his lip to keep from snorting. It was slightly odd to see the most dangerous man he'd ever faced be chastised like a young child._

_A sudden cough racked his frame, blood pooling in his mouth and spilling down his chin without his consent. Wrapping his arms around himself, he looked up at Khan with a wide terrified gaze, his body wracked with tremors and dark spots dotting his vision before he fell forward unconscious._

Sherlock's eyes widened as he caught his mate in his arms, his heart racing as the blond jerked and whimpered in his embrace. Blood escaped the young Captain's pursed lips and the detective fought not to snarl.

Stubborn, foolish Omega!

By denying their bond, Jim had accelerated the strain, his body trying to cut the bond he believed he didn't want. Even now, he could feel a slight ache building in his chest from his mate's strain.

"Unhand him." Silver and sky eyes darkened at the command and his grip on his mate tightened, his lips pulled back threateningly. How dare the Vulcan try to approach his mate while he was vulnerable! He could care for him just fine without his interference!

The Vulcan glared at him, but Mycroft stopped him from approaching, frowning steeply.

"End this foolish behavior this instant, brother."

Sherlock snorted, nuzzling his mate's sweaty head. A warm rumbling croon left his throat as he scented Jim carefully, soothing the sick omega. Jim whimpered, feverish blue eyes sliding open slightly.

"Foolish omega." He admonished gently and a muted whine left the slimmer man.

"A-alpha…h-hurts."

"That is our bond acknowledging your rejection. If I don't bond you now, the severing link will kill you."

His mate's eyes widened and he nodded, baring his neck as his instincts bayed him to do.

Khan's pale eyes darkened at the show of trust and the world seemed to fall away as a please growl left him. Canines sharpening, he leaned down and sank them into the creamy column of his mate's throat solidifying their bond, until it could be consummated during the heat season.

In his arms, James jerked, a low throaty moan spilling from slick lips and back arching in pleasure.

"A-alpha." He whined, and Khan pulled away, only to snarl as his mate was suddenly yanked away from him and a gunshot-like sound sent him into unconsciousness.

* * *

John frowned deeply as he sat at Sherlock's bedside, taking in the detective's pale features.

When Sherlock had woken him that morning to get him to come with him to get a case, he hadn't expected any of this. The absolute fury in his friend's gaze as he'd attacked Commander Spock was unlike anything he'd ever seen in the man. And his strength?!

While Sherlock had never been a particularly weak man, John had never seen him single-handedly hold a man in the air like he weighed less than a feather.

What the hell had happened to his friend in his time away?

His dark blue gaze found the burn mark on the younger man's shoulder and wave of anger swept through him on Sherlock's behalf.

When Sherlock had bit Kirk, Spock had lost it, yanking the handsome blonde out of the detective's arms and holding him protectively as McCoy tazed the brunette. Sherlock had dropped immediately and Mycroft had damn near flayed the two alive with his words alone, dark eyes hard and unforgiving as he held his unconscious little brother. By the time the shadow of the British Government was done, the two men were thoroughly cowed and Sherlock had been moved to St. Barts to be examined.

Jim had been taken to Lestrade's house on McCoy's orders because, in his words, "Ain't nobody treatin' this kid but me." Per Mycroft, the blonde had severe allergies to damn near everything and since they didn't know how the younger man would react with 21st century meds.

A wry smile crossed John's lips.

Time-travel.

Only Sherlock could manage anything like that so thoroughly. Only Sherlock would do something so far outside the realm of normal that it was considered fiction and act as if none of it had happened.

Those three had met Sherlock 300 years in the future and, according to them, he had been a terrible man…well, Bones and Spock seemed to think so. Jim, however, seemed to be of a different opinion if the byplay between him and the former terrorist were anything to go by. There was something warm and empathetic in his gaze every time his and Sherlock's eyes met and he knew that for all the denial the blond was going through now, he was well on his way to falling.

It was only a matter of time.

"Shut up."

The former soldier started at the sound of said friend's voice, eyes moving from the blanket to meet cold pale eyes.

Every inch of his friend screamed uneasy as his keen silver-and-sky hues flitted around the hospital room, lips curling into a snarl with each passing second.

"Sherlock?"

The dark-haired man didn't respond, sitting up abruptly and yanking off the hospital gown with absolutely no care for modesty.

"Sherlock!" John repeated scandalized and a rough chuckle left the other, who quickly dressed and turned to him.

"Let's go."

Obediently, he followed him from the hospital and out into the busy streets of London, all the while staring up at him curiously.

"What was that about?"

"I don't like hospitals."

Blinking at the answer, john frowned.

"Not that, but thanks for the explanation. I'm talking about you and Kirk at the police station."

For a moment, Sherlock didn't respond, then his thin lips quirked into a small smile, the ice in his eyes melting.

"When I fell, I went underground and began to eliminate parts of Moriarty's web. A few months ago, only three or four months before I returned to you…I was captured and taken to Baskerville. They enhanced us, made us better… nearly indestructible…" He paused.

"Kirk was dying from radiation poisoning in our original timeline. He was a starship captain, and I was attacking his ship, after Mr. Spock killed my family. He went into the warp core chamber to save his crew, knowing it would kill him, so they used my blood to save him. However, they failed to consider that, for all intents and purposes, I'm not only human, I am _more_. When they gave him my blood they inadvertently changed his biology in ways even I had failed to realize. He is _**mine.**_"

John shuddered as his friend's tone darkened with intent and he knew without a doubt that if Spock and Bones thought they could keep Kirk away they were wrong because not only had the blonde expressed an interest in him…but Sherlock had claimed him.

Even before Reichenbach, Sherlock was very possessive of those he considered his, and whatever Moriarty had done had exacerbated this fact.

Those two didn't stand a chance.

**TBC…**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

"Finally Awake, Sleeping beauty?"

Hazy electric blue eyes slid from the ceiling to turn in the direction of the voice beside their owner, confusion in their depths.

Where was he?

And why the hell did he feel a sharp tugging in his chest?

He looked down in the direction of the sensation and his confusion grew when he found nothing but the stark white of the wife-beater he'd been wearing beneath his work clothes. He looked back at the gruff man beside him, bewildered.

"B-Bones."

His friend's eyes softened.

"Hey, Kid. Alright?"

His brow furrowed.

"What happened?"

Bones heaved a heavy sigh, suddenly looking older than he was.

"Khan showed up at The Yard and did something. You fainted like the lil princess you are and Spock stunned Khan. Just got word the psycho and his friend left the hospital an hour ago. You've been out since yesterday."

Jim frowned and forced his tired body to sit up as the memories from the day before rush back to him.

Khan showing up at the Yard.

The confrontation with Spock.

Mycroft.

John.

_Bonding_.

"Oh," He whispered, placing his hand over the area the tugging was coming from.

He'd bonded with Khan.

Somehow, he wasn't as bothered by the news as he probably should have been. If anything, the news cause a small flutter of warmth in his chest.

"Stop smiling, brat."

He flushed, only just realizing that a small shy smile had danced its way across his lips. His best friend smirked.

"Ya don't do things by halves, do ya Jimmy?"

He smiled impishly. "Now where's the fun in that?"

* * *

"Sherlock."

Pale silver-n-sky eyes moved from where they had been gazing listlessly out th window to meet serious grey ones full of concern.

Mycroft.

The puppeteer stood in the doorway wearing a worried expression that still managed to come off as chastising, a small furrow in his brow and his lips downturned. Had it been anyone else, the expression would've irked him, as it was he only felt a strong wave of melancholy wash over him driving his gaze back to the window.

"What am I doing, My?" He murmured softly. "I should be dead, not pretending to be a man long since dead"

"Sherl-"

"Khan! I'm no longer Sherlock Holmes nor have I been since the moment I awakened strapped to a table in Baskerville. There is nothing for me Mycroft! _Nothing! _What use do ghosts have for a _relic_ of a time that has not nor shall pass!"

For the first time in years, true anger sparked in his elder brother's eyes, his hand tightening on his umbrella.

"We need you! In the three years you were dead to us, we mourned for you! I mourned for you! John nearly committed suicide! If something happens to you again he may very well succeed. Please, I can't bury another sibling, Sherlock."

His voice broke and Khan flinched, curling in on himself.

It had been so long since someone had honestly _cared_ about him that it hurt a bit to hear it in his brother's voice and see it in his eyes.

Like Mycroft, he could remember when they'd buried Sherrinford, could still hear his mother's screams of denial as her eldest son's coffin was lowered into the earth.

It hurt to know he'd forced her to feel that pain again but even worse, he could remember Mycroft's face. Blank even as tears made their way down his cheeks. He never wanted to be the cause of that face and yet…

The tugging in his chest from his bond to Kirk and the hollowness in his chest where his bonds to his crew should be made him ache and _feel_ and he just wanted it to stop.

Placing a hand to his chest where the tug originated, he gritted his teeth when one particularly sharp tug nearly managed to bring him to his knees. There was no way that the Starfleet and the MET would let him near Kirk and if he knew the Vulcan, the bastard had already placed a restraining order against him…which explained Mycroft's presence. However, it also created unnecessary complications that if not handled would lead to both his and Kirk's deaths. With their bond so new and unconsummated, it was fragile and could be broken but the backlash would kill Kirk and severely weaken him.

His eyes narrowed. He wouldn't allow that.

Seems like Khan was necessary in this time after all.

A throat clearing drew him from his thoughts and he looked back at Mycroft.

"Indeed, the new restraining order was one of the reasons I am here, it was not my main reason."

He frowned. "What else is there?"

"Father and Mummy are coming to visit."

Sherlock stared at him, unsure of how he should react to the news.

In his original time, he hadn't seen his parents since just after he and John had handled the Hound case. More than three hundred years had passed and while he'd always loved them, it was more the love of a distant relative than the love of a child to its guardians. How was he supposed to deal with this situation?

He sighed, closing his eyes.

"Fuck."

Yep, that word summed it all up nicely, even with Mycroft's petulant snickering in the background.

* * *

"You did what?!"

Spock stared at his friend and captain impassively as the blonde glared at him, iridescent blue gaze full of righteous fury.

He hadn't expected the younger male to like his decision, but it was for his own good. He'd seen the looks Khan and his captain had exchanged and it made him uncomfortable to know that the blonde was slowly falling prey to the sociopathic augment's charms. If the only way to protect the younger man also earned his ire it was a risk he was willing to take, but Khan was dangerous and the attack at the police station had only emphasized that fact.

"I filed a restraining order against Khan and Sherlock Holmes. It was for your own good captain." He monotoned and Jim sneered his eyes watering but still angry,

"That isn't your call, Spock. I'm a grown as man, I can take care of myself!"

Spock snorted before he could stop himself.

"Captain, I have never seen you empathize with anyone, criminal or crewmate as well as you empathize with Khan. It is safer for us all is he stays away, but its safest for you if he's gone.

His friend swallowed and something in his gaze seemed to shatter.

"I appreciate you looking out for me, Spock, but while Khan may be dangerous, he won't hurt me."

Bone snorted. "He attacked Spock unprovoked. Sorry Kid, I know you like him and I'd hate to do this, but I agree with the hobgoblin."

Jim looked betrayed, his hand clutching at his chest.

"You're wrong." He replied, standing shakily. They reached out for him but he evaded them.

"You're. Wrong." He repeated, heading into the bathroom and locking the door behind him.

Spock gave a heavy sigh, wondering why his friend couldn't see he was just trying to protect him.

Wouldn't Jim do the same for him?

* * *

John sighed quietly as he sipped the pint of beer in front of him, his heart aching in his chest.

When Sherlock had returned, he'd allowed himself to hope that maybe there was a chance for them. That he'd finally get to act on the feelings he'd been harboring for his roommate but it wasn't to be. Anyone with eyes could see that Sherlock was firmly head over heels for the blonde time traveler staying with Lestrade. Plus, they were "bonded" whatever the hell that meant. It hurt both more and less than he expected it to.

He was happy that Sherlock had finally found someone that could keep up with him and yet he couldn't help but wish it was him.

Sighing once more, he jerked as a beautiful blonde woman took a seat beside him.

"Aren't you a bit too handsome to be drinking alone?" She said playfully and he flushed slightly.

"Couldn't the same be said about you?"

She smiled, slow and sweet. "Touché. Can I get you a drink?"

"Only if I can get you one as well."

Her smile grew. "Absolutely. My name is Mary. Mary Morstan."

"Nice to meet you. I'm John Watson."

**TBC…**


End file.
